They Rely On Hope. What Do I Rely On? - Tommyinnit Adoption AU

Chapter 115

When Tommy felt the presence of someone behind him, he froze, his muscles tensing, readying to defend himself. When the person sat down, he relaxed for just a second before pulling away. It was Freddie. Tommy knew not to stay near him. He knew that every second that Freddie was around was a signal to the Masked Ones that Freddie was also a risk. Tommy would not make Freddie's life harder then it already is.

"Go back to your friends," Tommy muttered, his voice low, so that only Freddie would hear him, not the Masked Ones who were all watching him carefully.

"You are-"

"No. No Badlinu, I'm not. Go. Please-" Tommy snapped, his voice breaking with the last word. The Masked Ones didn't trust him. He would not risk Freddie. He didn't care about the hurt that flashed across Freddie's face at the sharp tone, and more importantly, the use of the name they gave him. Tommy knew it would be like a slap in the face coming from him, and he hated that, but he needed Freddie gone. He needed Freddie out of here. He would not let them connect Freddie with him. It was not safe. He would not do that to anyone. He couldn't.

Freddie did as he was told, taking his food with him and returning to his rightful place. Tommy did not look to see the hatred he was sure would be filling The Survivors' faces. He did not let himself look back. He simply ate, then he stood, waiting for instruction. The Masked One motioned for him to follow, and they stepped outside.

From then on were a blur of pain, exhaustion and more pain. He spent hours locked in a room, alone, left with instructions to train nonstop.

There were cameras, watching him. Making sure he worked, and every time he took a break for even just a second, Masked Ones would stream into the room, each bearing their new favourite drill weapon. Here, Tommy would have to fight off whatever number of Masked Ones came in at that time. Sometimes it was only 3, and others it was more then 10. It always ended in agony.

The first time it had happened, it hadn't been too bad, only 3 had come in, one with a wooden and blunted axe, another with a drill sword, and another with a wooden flail. It had fucking hurt, but it hadn't been anywhere near the worst time.

The worst had been when Tommy was surrounded on all sides, attacks coming so constantly he had no chance to block them. He could still remember the way each hit had felt. He could still hear the crack and thuds of the weapons hitting him. He could still taste the vomit and blood that had come as he lay crumpled on the floor. That at least had made them stop. They didn't want him dead, at least Tommy was pretty sure they didn't. Not yet.

He had survived that attack, and that was mostly due to the respite they gave him after lunch that day, but still Tommy could remember the pain of every single stroke. Every vicious stroke, a punishment for stopping. He must never stop. He must never stop. He must never stop. And yet, here he lay, crumpled on the floor of his cell, knowing there were guards on the other side of it, most likely happy to find an excuse to use Tommy as a punching bag.

38 and 62 were on this rotation if Tommy's memory served him. He had learnt a few things from the guards. They got bored fairly easily, and that resulted in bored chatter. Tommy found that if he leant against the wall, with his ear next to the crack in the door he could hear what they were saying, without looking like he was eves dropping.

There weren't many cameras in this facility, in fact Tommy had only ever seen them in two places. His cell, and his training room. Either way, he knew someone was definitely watching him at all times. He had to admit, he felt somewhat proud of the fear he stirred in them. 

Tommy let his head rest on it's side, his back heavy against the cold stone. He stared at the door, wondering if it was worth the agony to go and see what they were talking about, if they were even talking at all.

He had gained a lot of useful inside information from the guards, and also some that was probably common knowledge to most. He now knew that his fight was one that almost everyone was interested in seeing. He knew that the Masked Ones' numbers were decided on ranking, that 17 had been a high ranking Masked One, but not the highest. He knew that Dream had once been number one, top of the pile, with enough power to set someone on fire just because he felt like it. He also knew that ever since Tommy had gotten Dream captured, XD had taken his place as number one.

More importantly, Tommy knew that the Masked Ones hated him. Some seemed scared to guard his cell, although how exactly Tommy could escape and hurt them he had no clue. Others seemed angry, and ready for a fight. In others, Tommy could recognise resentment, not fear, not anger, just simple, cruel, resentment.

Tommy didn't fucking care if they hated him. Didn't care if they thought he was the worst person alive. All he knew was that he would never be as awful as these monsters, and that simple fact rested his mind. He was better then them, because he would never fucking hurt Tubbo, nor anyone else's beloved brother.

Tommy was not a monster, not in that way at least. He had been called a monster before, and he didn't know if it was true, but he did know he was nothing like the Masked Ones and he never would be.

Words: 1000

A/N: u guys seemed to appreciate the scatterplots incorrect quotes last time, although far too many of u insist tubbo is alive (he very much is not)

Anyway, have another:

Wilbur: Sally and I are having a baby.
Fundy: That's gre-
Wilbur, slamming adoption papers on the table: It's you, sign here.

Another perfect one ngl-